Endleofan
by El Angel Caido
Summary: He sighed. "You don't get it, do you?"


**Endleofan**

El Angel Caido

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note

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She used to follow him everywhere. Like he was her savior.

And maybe he was, for a while. After all, he was the one who saved her from her pathetic, pointless existence. He gave her justice, showed her that he cared for her and gave her hope that one day he would return her feelings. And although his ultimate intentions for doing so were very debatable, she didn't care. All she knew was that he was her savior, and that was enough.

But then he died.

Someone who died couldn't be your savior, she decided. She didn't want a savior if one day a Shinigami would write his name on his Death Note and his heart would stop beating in some abandoned warehouse. No, she needed more permanence than that.

So she stopped looking for saviors. It was the easiest thing in the world to do. Just stop looking.

And he, the guy sitting at the edge of her bed, hated that she could look right through him because she didn't need a savior any more. She had abandoned the thought that someone would free her from life but still allow her to go on living. She loved ice cream and gothic fashion and sex way too much to be free of life. She nudged the guy with her foot, almost making him tumble off the bed. She often giggled. Today, though, she was perfectly somber in memory of the boy whose heart stopped beating in an old, abandoned warehouse.

The boy glanced up at her and looked exhausted. She decided that every boy who spent more than four weeks with her got this exhausted look. He lay next to her, stuffing her pillow under his head before closing his eyes. Yes, she made people exhausted. She didn't mean too, though. It wasn't like it was a plan to torture people who wanted to love her, or at least fuck her. No, she didn't have any plans.

Well, okay, she had plans. She was going to be a doctor. Surprise! You thought she was just your stupid model-next-door? No, before all this she was actually in school so that one day she could save peoples lives.

Except people whose hearts mysteriously stopped beating. Those were the people you didn't save. You just watch them die, if you're lucky enough to even be there to see it.

She almost hated that all her life she wanted to be a doctor. Now she was stuck. Before that night of bullets and phone calls and screams, she probably would have worn her white or blue or whatever coat proudly and decided that God had put her on the planet to save lives.

She laughed derisively to herself before kissing the boy's neck that lay beside her. One day she would forget, she realized, which would be even more pitiful than her lying in bed right now remembering false memories of him lying dead on the cold cement floor of an abandoned warehouse while his heart deprived him of everything he needed to live.

She had never seen him alive that night. But she could never trick her mind into believing that his body hadn't somehow ended up in a deserted street with starved raccoons feasting on his eyes for breakfast or dinner or whatever.

"You're thinking about him," the boy said into her pillow. He knew that her late night reveries consisted of him and raccoons. The boy held her hand because he wanted her for himself, to bring her back from deserted streets and thoughts about a boy who died more than three years ago. "Do you have any idea why I love you?"

God, she hated when he did this, almost as much as she loved it. "Eru is not going to start waxing all poetical and make Misa-Misa have to barf in a toilet." She stopped because he was looking at her as if she needed to shut up or he would strangle her.

"Do you know why I like a look of anguish?"

"Because Eru knows it's true," she provided, used to him liking all the dash-y nonsense of Emily Dickinson. Jesus, she couldn't understand a damn thing the woman said when he brought over these stupid anthologies for her to read. Oh brother. "And that's why Eru loves Misa-Misa. Because Misa-Misa has all sorts of looks of anguish because her life sucks."

"That's fell in love with you, yes," he agreed.

"Eru likes being in love with Misa-Misa because it proves that he can love a basket case. So many people think that to really live, to be a poet, that they had either be a basket case themselves or love someone who at any minute would slit their wrists. That's what Misa-Misa is for you, the girl Eru can write about in his poems. Misa-Misa did not sign up to be anyone's Dark Lady or whatever. And by the way, Misa-Misa has news for Eru. There will be no suicide attempts."

"You're really crazy, aren't you?"

She shrugged and sunk into bed next to him. "Eru knows what Misa-Misa likes about him, though. Eru is really good at making love. Misa-Misa means it. Eru has this nice way about him that most guys don't. Like he really cares about Misa-Misa. It's really nice. Misa-Misa hopes all the girls Eru sleeps with get the same treatment. Misa-Misa wants to know that she's not the only girl out there that gets to know what that's like."

"You think you're so in touch with the world, don't you. That you're so jaded that you can talk about free love and suicide and murder like you've lived through everything. You're just so naïve it's pitiful."

"Where'd the love go?" she purred and laughed at him. "Eru probably loves Misa-Misa. Eru just don't know a damn thing about Misa-Misa."

"I know that you think because your first love was killed that you somehow got transformed with this heart of stone. Now you're safe because you don't give a damn about anyone but yourself. But you care so got damn much about the whole world. Remember that boy we used to see riding his bicycle by himself?"

"Talk to Misa-Misa, Doctor Lawliet."

He ignored her. "You used to always worry about whether or not his parents were near by. You used to say things like a mother. I hope he looks both ways. He should really be wearing a helmet."

"Of course Misa-Misa worries about kids riding their stupid bikes alone, without a helmet. Misa-Misa not a monster, contrary to what Eru might think."

"That's my whole point. But you don't listen to anybody but yourself. You think you have the whole world figured out."

"MIsa-Misa is not the one who wants to be a poet."

He sighed. "You don't get it, do you?"

"Misa-Misa guesses not," she agreed, softer this time.

"You want to have kids."

She stared down into his eyes as he looked up at her. Raito-kun, that was the dead boy's name. That was her savior's name.

"You don't' hate him, do you?" the boy next to her had at one time asked, looking through her with tired, dark eyes.

"Misa-Misa can't hate somebody that's dead." She said. And it was true. She could never hate Light.

She could only love him. Even when he's dead. Even when she had the great L's arm around her slim little waist and her head on his shoulder.

"You want kids."

"I'll have kids." She said, patting her stomach.

And he was smart enough to know that it was true. She was going to have beautiful babies after eight months or so. Two beautiful, perfectly healthy Yagami babies.

"Know what, Eru-kun?"

"Hmm?"

"I wish I had them with you."


End file.
